


if my life is mine

by ephemera (incognitajones)



Series: Asterisms [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: F/M, Naked Male Clothed Female, Orgasm Delay, Verbal Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-21 17:03:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9558626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitajones/pseuds/ephemera
Summary: For the Rogue One kinkmeme prompt: "In which Cassian's a tense man and Jyn Erso enjoys him begging."





	

**Author's Note:**

> [Original prompt here](http://rogueonekink.dreamwidth.org/1084.html?thread=458044#cmt458044). 
> 
> Not *quite* pure, unadulterated PWP; some (repressed) feelings included.

“Can I trust you, Cassian?” Jyn lays the faintest stress on the word “trust,” and the glint in her eyes is calculating. “Or do I need to get a pair of binders and make sure you can’t move on your own?”

“You can trust me,” he says hastily. “I won’t—I won’t do anything unless you tell me to.” His wounded leg is already a little stiff from kneeling on the cold duracrete floor, but he can manage for as long as she wants him to.

Jyn hums to herself, walking behind him and trailing a hand across the tense line of his shoulders. “I know you can take orders. That’s why I don’t think this is enough of a challenge for you.” She circles in front of him again and grabs his chin, canting his head up so he has to look her in the eye. He braces himself to meet her gaze directly. Somehow, Jyn sees too much of him. He does trust her—has trusted her with his life—but that doesn’t make it any more comfortable to be known. 

She brushes her thumb across his lower lip. “No lying.” 

His face solidifies into a perfectly still mask. She grins ferally, scenting his panic. “If I ask you a question while we’re doing this, you have to tell me the truth. Do you think you can do that?” 

Cassian swallows, his throat working dryly. He does not want to promise that. But he is desperate for Jyn to use him however she wants to, and if this is the way to get it… Besides, he’s an expert at this game, a professional liar while Jyn is only a talented amateur. “Okay.”

“First question. Are you scared of me?”

“No,” he answers quickly, honestly.

She circles behind him again; he can hear the whisper of her bare feet against the floor. “But you are scared of doing this.” 

“No.”

Her hand twists in the hair at the nape of his neck and tugs sharply—just enough to sting. “Lie.”

Cassian closes his eyes. Shit. He’s in deeper than he knew. ”I'm a little nervous.”

Jyn leans over him and he can feel her warm breath on his face. “Better,” she whispers against his lips, so close he can almost taste her. “Now we can start.”

She straightens up and yanks on his hair again. “Stand up.” With one hand fisted in his hair and the other on his belt, she steers him over to the wall and pushes his shoulders against it. “Hands behind your back.” He complies, clasping his hands loosely around his wrists just so that he has something to do with them. 

She kicks his feet farther apart until he’s standing in an approximation of parade rest. “Don’t move unless I tell you to. Don’t come until I say you can. And remember—you have to tell the truth.” She drops to her knees, her hands skimming up the outside of his thighs, and stares up at him. 

This is not what Cassian was expecting. The challenge in Jyn’s eyes is intimidating, and for the first time he wonders whether he can win this game. 

“Say it,” she demands.

“I understand.” His voice is already hoarse.

She flicks his belt open with a snap of her wrist and tears his pants down to his ankles before his racing heartbeat can catch up. His hands flex around his wrists as she leans in and takes him in her mouth. Still, this is child’s play. Yes, he’d like to touch her hair, to cup her face and feel her jaw work, but it’s not difficult to restrain the impulse.

It doesn’t take long for her to build him up to a pitch of exquisite hardness, hands and slick mouth and tongue all working together. He sighs, half in anticipation, half in disappointment that this will be over so soon. Then she stops and simply holds him in her mouth. The sudden lack of friction is maddening. It’s a little more difficult now, to keep his hips still when he wants to thrust into her waiting mouth, but he manages. Jyn pulls back slowly, her lips sliding away a millimetre at a time, and he pants as the cool air hits his wet skin. He’s so hard now that his cock slaps up against his belly as soon as she releases it.

Jyn leans back on her heels and looks up at him. She drags one finger slowly down the underside of his cock, scraping a delicate line with her fingernail, and smiles. Cassian shivers.

She stands up and tugs at the bottom of his shirt. “Shirt off.” He pulls it over his head and drops it to the floor. “Hands behind your back again.” 

Once he’s in position, she steps back a pace and examines him, her eyes lingering on his erection. Cassian’s never had much modesty, but standing here with his pants around his ankles and nothing else, naked to the scrutiny of a self-possessed and still fully clothed Jyn, is both a little embarrassing and very, very arousing. His cock jumps uncontrollably as she stares at it. Judging by the grin on her face, she enjoys that.

Jyn steps in, pressing close to his chest, but doesn’t touch him where he’s aching for it. Instead she begins tracing light, aimless patterns with both hands: across his ribs, along his flanks and down his thighs, back up to his nipples and the notch in his collarbone. She’s looking down at his body and from this angle all he can see is the uneven part in her hair, her tangled bangs. He always forgets how small she is; he could rest his chin on her head—if he could move. Her calloused fingers and the sharp edges of her ragged nails contradict the gentle way she’s touching him. When she brushes the ticklish spot on the side of his belly, his muscles quiver again. Cassian breathes deeply through his nose and tries to ignore his insistent arousal.

At last Jyn’s hands move lower, and lower still; she draws her fingers up his inner thigh and takes him firmly in hand. This time she doesn’t start off gently. She pulls on him, hard and rough, dragging her thumb over the head of his cock. Her hands are still a little cold and the contrast with his hot skin is pleasant. 

But she keeps twisting her arm, changing the alignment of her wrist. Cassian moans each time, frustration intensifying because his arousal can’t build into a steady rhythm; he slides back down from the peak with every brief interruption in her strokes. His wrists start to ache and he loosens his hands, realizing that he’s been gripping them so tightly he may have bruises later.

“You’re too tall,” Jyn complains. “This is a terrible angle.” 

Cassian can see her point, but he’s finding it hard to care. He’s so close to coming, if she would just—he chokes back a whimper and nearly shoves himself forward into her grasp before he stops himself. She grabs his arm and tows him toward his bunk; he shuffles over, hobbled by his pants, until his knees hit the side of it.

“Lie down on your back.” Once he’s managed that with absolutely no grace, Jyn yanks off his boots and his pants, arranges him roughly to her liking. “Arms over your head.” She kneels on the narrow cot beside him and studies his pose. “Better. Don’t move.”

She straddles him, the coarse fabric of her pants rasping against his shins, and lowers her head. She’s watching him, and even in the dim light from the fresher he can see the satisfaction in her eyes. This time, she chooses to torment him with excruciating slowness. She noses and nips at his inner thighs, her hair trailing over his skin, and it’s an eternity before she goes anywhere near his aching, straining cock. 

Cassian’s been through Imperial torture; he can resist one woman’s attention. He uses all of the tricks he knows for realigning his awareness: counting breaths, focusing on areas that aren’t flooded with sensation. But his entire body is lit up like a fuse, every nerve firing, only with pleasure instead of pain. Jyn pays attention to his cock, yes, she keeps coming back to it, but she also works methodically over every centimetre of him she can reach. Even the soles of his feet are stroked lightly, each finger traced with her tongue. And she’s gentle—too cursed gentle—but unrelenting. He doesn’t know how she knows when he’s agonizingly close, one more breath away from coming, but each time she stops and pulls him back from the brink.

She sits back on her knees again and just watches him for a long moment, drawing one finger in tiny circles around his left nipple. Cassian is dazed, panting. He wants to sit up, tear off Jyn's shirt and mouth at the curve of her small breasts until her skin is scoured red from his beard. He can’t, but he can’t think why right now...

“Do you know that you're beautiful?”

Right, the game: he owes her a truth. But which one is she expecting? He settles on the easiest. “People have told me so.” It's never mattered to him except when it makes his job easier. It's just another disguise.

Her eyes soften, and Cassian wonders why. Is this kindness because he reminds her of someone she used to know? He hopes not. He wants her to be rougher, he needs it, because her undeserved tenderness is going to undo him.

But Jyn never stops being so kind that it's cruel. The seventh time she takes him in her mouth, she curves a hand underneath him and when she presses the tip of a finger inside the ring of muscle in his ass he nearly breaks, crying out. But she hasn’t said anything, so he bites the inside of his cheek, breathes through it the same way he would a kick to the ribs, and doesn’t come. 

Jyn sits up again, resting one hand on his thigh for balance, and shakes the hair out of her eyes. She seems almost disappointed that he didn’t disobey her. “I never thought I’d have to work so hard to make a man enjoy himself.” Her voice is even, measured, and if he couldn’t see her expanded pupils, the flush of blood staining her face and down her neck, he’d think this wasn’t affecting her at all.

He gasps out something that could be a laugh. “Not sure enjoyment is the right word for this.” 

“If you want it to stop,” she says, “all you have to do is ask.” 

Cassian opens and closes his mouth, unable to speak. His tongue won’t work. 

“Do you want to come now?” Jyn tilts her head and looks down at him consideringly. “Tell the truth.”

“Yes. No. I don't know.” 

And that is the truth. He doesn’t know what he wants—he wants to grab Jyn and fuck her into the thin cot until it breaks beneath them, he wants to come in her mouth, he wants her to keep teasing him until his heart gives out. He needs her to decide.

“Please,” he begs. “Just do whatever you want to me. Please.”

And she does. 

Cassian dissolves. He’s not Cassian anymore, he’s just a body, flesh and muscle and over-sensitive skin that Jyn is holding together in one piece with her hands and her lips. He’s throbbing, pulsing in time with the beat of his heart and the pump of Jyn’s hand and he needs to come but he can’t—he can’t—he—

“You can come now, Cassian.” Jyn’s voice is quiet and firm, grounding him. “Come,” she tells him once more with the perfect note of command. 

His breath stops, his lungs catch fire as every muscle in his body convulses. He spills helplessly, hot and unending, all over her hands and his belly. His ears ring with the thunder of his pulse and it goes on and on until he’s empty and shaking. He’s never heard the hoarse noise that comes out of his throat before. His face is slick with sweat and he wishes that were all, but he knows that tears are leaking from the corners of his eyes too. 

“Shhh, shhh,” Jyn soothes him. Her warm tongue licks him clean and he hears a rustle as she wipes her hand off on the coarse sheets. Before he can gather the energy to turn his head away, she’s reached out to brush the tears from his cheek. Her fingers still smell of the bitter tang of semen.

Cassian keeps his eyes squeezed shut. He’s weightless, floating, and he doesn’t care what Jyn must think of him, whether she’s lost any shred of respect for him she ever had. Jyn can despise him; all he wants is for her to take him apart again tomorrow, next week, whenever she has a moment to spare for him. And if she doesn’t, well, he can live on this memory and the hope that it will happen again for years.

Jyn’s hand is still lingering on his wet face, sliding down to cup his chin. He turns his head and kisses her palm. 

“Look at me, Cassian.”

He obeys, of course he obeys, and meets her eyes that shine impossibly clear in the dimness. Strangely, she looks worried. “Are you okay? Please say something.” She leans down and kisses him so sweetly, so softly that if he doesn’t get a grip he’s going to start fucking crying again. “Was it good?”

He nods, unable to speak at first. He clears his throat and pushes the words out. “Stars, yes.”

Her hands comb gently through his hair and her lips move against the edge of his beard. This—this has got to stop. Cassian has already handed over to Jyn his body and his soul, what’s left of it. If she gets his heart, too… 

He forces his hand to rise to her waist and starts to fumble with the fastening of her pants. “Can it be my turn, now?” His voice is still rough, barely intelligible.

“Maybe,” Jyn allows. A sly smile gathers in the corners of her mouth. “But I cheat.”

**Author's Note:**

> De-anoned because the fact that you can't group stories posted anonymously into a series on AO3 was driving me nuts... and I don't seem to be able to stop writing these prompts. (Filling one or two was supposed to get them out of my system!)
> 
> Title from Metric's "Help I'm Alive."


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